The current year's final chapter gently closes,
an yellow leaf from the guava tree falls -
and in its place, a clean page discloses,
a silent call, that through the calmness calls.
A canvas of dew upon the windowpane,
makes images of past and what maybe.
The feeling of echoes of past year's pain,
now created by a new hope, fresh and free.
Time is not a chain but a turning wheel,
that welcomes dawn, chasing away night.
It offers every wounded soul a balming seal,
mending cracks, welcoming the light.
A seed beneath the winter's blanket lies,
trusted patience, awaiting warmth and rain.
within our hearts, just so a new hope tries -
pushing through frozen doubt to try again.
Having a lamp of gratitude in our hand,
illuminating the starting steps along the way.
Hoping a kinder, wiser self will now stand -
to greet the promise of this newborn day.
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